Closed like confessionals they thread
Loud noons of cities giving back

Noen of the glances they absorb.

Light glossy1 grey arms on a plaque2

They come to rest at any kerb：

All streets in time are visited.

Then children strewn on steps or road

Or women coming coming from the shops

Past smells of different dinners see

A wild #CCCCFF face that overTOPs

Red stretcher-blankets momently

As it is carried in and stowed

And sense the solving emptiness

That lies just under all we do

And for a second get it whole

So permanent and blank and true.

The fastened doors recede3. Poor soul

They whisper at their own distress4.

For borne away in deadened air

May go the sudden shut of loss

Round something nearly at an end

And what cohered5 in it across

The years the unique random6 blend

Of families and fashions there

At last begin to loosen. Far

From the exchange of love to lie

Unreachable inside a room

The trafiic parts to let go by

Brings closer what is left to come

And dulls to distance all we are.